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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28621266">The Vanishing Point</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureAlien/pseuds/FutureAlien'>FutureAlien</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Bickering, Con Artists, Dialogue Heavy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Partners in Crime, Partners to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, lots of tags for a short and kinda vague story but i mean it is all there, they're an old married couple basically</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:13:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28621266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureAlien/pseuds/FutureAlien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you had to place ‘packing clothes for escape’ in one category,” Arthur starts, taking the utmost effort to sound measured, “would you put them with ‘heist’ or with ‘getaway plan’?”</p><p> </p><p>Arthur and Merlin are con artists, getting away from their latest crime.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>191</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Vanishing Point</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy New Year &amp; (kinda late) best wishes!! It's been ages since I last wrote anything, but the general stress of Everything finally motivated me enough to write this as a bit of relaxation. I've been wanting to write about Merthur as partners in crime for ages, and although I hope I'll be able to write out a longer story on this subject I'm really happy with how this turned out :D This also contains baby's very first attempt at something slightly smutty, so lets see how that goes. I really hope you like this, enjoy!!</p><p>Title (and inspo) from the song "Vanishing Point" by Alexandra Savior &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Is this really the best you could come up with?” Arthur asks, voice petulant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin rolls his eyes. He shoots Arthur a glance, revelling at the re-emergence of his golden hair and aquiline nose. It should be a crime to put such a gorgeous man in a disguise. Oh well. It kind of is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The road unwinds before them, presenting them with infinite stretches of desert. The tarmac shimmers in the summer heat, though he knows it won’t be long before the twilight will set in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if reading his mind, Arthur presses down on the gas pedal, shooting them off towards the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t even pack me a change of clothes,” Arthur whines, and Merlin can’t help but snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry for assuming you were a big enough boy to pack your own undies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur mutters something under his breath about </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiots</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>your share of the bargain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He does sort of have a point, not that Merlin will ever admit that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nowhere in our planning did we discuss your underwear, Pendragon,” he retorts instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches with delight as a muscle jumps in Arthur’s jaw, knuckles white around the steering wheel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you had to place ‘packing clothes for escape’ in one category,” Arthur starts, taking the utmost effort to sound measured, “would you put them with ‘heist’ or with ‘getaway plan’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin pretends to mull it over. “Could be both,” he says after a few moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could it though? Could it really?” The sarcasm in Arthur’s voice is so thick that Merlin fears it’ll fog up the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, considering that I don’t have the key to your apartment, it would have been a kind of heist to get in,” Merlin tries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur throws his head back into his neck and lets out a very long, very frustrated groan. Merlin shoots an eye to the road just to be sure. It’s straight, endless and completely empty. Still, better safe than sorry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be fine,” he says, patting Arthur’s arm, lingering a bit on the solid muscle of his biceps before swiftly pulling away. “We’ve got plenty of money, right? I can get you some new clothes at the next gas station.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur pulls up his nose in disgust, and Merlin chortles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can think about whether you’d prefer one with Hawaiian print or with a naked lady until we get there,” Merlin says, because taunting Arthur is a very enjoyable pastime and it’s not like there’s anything else to do for the next few hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please remind me why I chose to work with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shoots Arthur his brightest smile, only to find his partner’s gaze has returned to the road. “Because of my brilliant plans, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it’s Arthur’s turn to laugh. “I have to say, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. Did you at least arrange for a swap of cars?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Merlin lies</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wonders how long it’ll take Arthur to realise he’s being toyed with. Probably very long. There’s a reason why Merlin is the brains of this partnership.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’re really just going to keep driving in this garbage can until the police catch up with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin hums a bit, fiddling with the radio, trying to get to a station that broadcasted something other than static. Just as he’s fine tuning on something that sounds like it could be country music, Arthur bats his hand away, switching the radio off. He then proceeds to actually dismantle the entire radio and put it in the door compartment on his side, where Merlin can’t reach it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine. Merlin can also be childish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think they’re onto us already?” he asks, making sure to add just enough concern to his tone to make it believable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought your plan was guaranteed to get us to safety before they even noticed something missing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just a question, jeez! Relax a bit, mister Lorenz,” Merlin replies, a bit offended that Arthur would actually doubt his plans, even if that had kind of been the intention of his remark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that!” Arthur hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin makes a big show of looking around the car, even going as far as checking underneath the blanket that covered the suitcase full of cash in the backseat. “Why, are you afraid someone will hear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur frowns. “Everyone knows you should stop using your alias as soon as you’ve committed the crime. I would’ve thought you’d be more professional by now.” Then, with wide eyes and no small amount of trepidation in his voice: “Please tell me you arranged for new aliases. Please tell me you didn’t forget that, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin considers feigning a blunder, because Arthur should </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>know better than to doubt him by now. Ultimately, he decides against it, if only because it’s going to be even harder to pull this off if Arthur gets a heart attack and Merlin has to deal with disposing of his body on top of everything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He procures two fake IDs from the glove compartment. “Richard Lyttleton,” he pronounces. “Illegitimate child of Viscount Cobham, grew up in Washington but chose to cultivate a British accent to remind people of his heritage. Travelling with a fellow student from Yale, Jamie Scott, whom he bullied into playing his chauffeur and who will drive back to his home in Ohio once he dropped you off with the Essetirs. That would be me, of course. We’ll go through the rest of the story once we stop for the night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur nods, satisfied, until the realisation hits. “Did you call me Richard so you can abbreviate it to Dick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Merlin says, cheerfully popping the </span>
  <em>
    <span>p</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Gwaine agreed that it was very funny. He sends his regards.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of idiots,” Arthur grumbles, though he fails at fully hiding his affection. “How is it possible that man isn’t in prison yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shrugs. “For the same reason we’re not: his irresistible charms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smirk unfolds over Arthur's face. “Does that mean that I also have irresistible charms? Seeing as you always hide in the shadows and let me do all the heavy lifting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t exactly call you </span>
  <em>
    <span>irresistible</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Merlin says, which just might be a big, fat lie. “But of course you’re charming. I wouldn’t have recruited you if you weren’t. Bit hard being a con-man without charisma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a con-man,” Arthur protests, as he always does. “I perform heists.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The closest thing to a heist you ever pulled off was that time you tried to sneak out of Vivian LeComte’s window and fell,” Merlin points out, sniggering at the memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha ha, very funny. Let’s all just endlessly laugh at the one time I fell from a window naked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I definitely plan to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur shoots him a dirty look. “I could have been hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you weren’t, so now it’s just incredibly funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so puerile,” Arthur says. “I understand why you’d find Gwaine more attractive than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin really hopes Arthur doesn’t notice how warm his cheeks have gotten. If only his partner in crime knew how untrue that statement was. The last thing Merlin wants is to respond, because the subject is just too close for comfort. However Arthur is vain enough to be hurt if he’d just let that remark go unchallenged, and he also doesn’t want to be sitting in a car with a grumpy Arthur Pendragon for the next couple of hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just saying that to hear me deny it, you big-headed prat,” he says in the end. That’s good. Lighthearted, joking. Jokes are safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Arthur doesn’t let go so easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” is all the utter bastard says, leaving Merlin to explain himself further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really need me to say that you’re a prettier boy than Gwaine? Doesn’t the queue of rich girls begging to marry you stroke your ego enough?” There is no shame in stalling, Merlin has decided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what did you expect? All the other eligible rich guys are either family, misogynists or senior citizens.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It always takes Merlin a bit by surprise to hear how concerned Arthur is about their targets, especially the girls. Maybe it’s because he’s from a rich family himself, though he had turned his back on that whole world after his father disinherited him. Merlin suspects his partner feels a bit too much kinship with the ladies’ doomed marriage prospects. Or maybe it’s just because Arthur spends so much time around these people, while Merlin schemes in the shadows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way, this kind of concern is a major risk in their line of work. It shouldn’t be endearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This whole conversation is steering in a dangerous direction, which means it has to end now. Peering in the side mirror, Merlin laces his voice with concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you see that? I think somebody is following us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Arthur notices his obvious attempt at distraction, he doesn’t say anything. He merely checks his rearview mirror, which offers him a clear view of the completely deserted road behind them. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They drive in silence for a while. Just as Merlin starts to feel comfortable, letting out a breath he had subconsciously been holding, Arthur speaks up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are we during the trip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucker</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have a couple of aliases saved for when they’re between jobs, either because they’re on the run or because they’re scouting for targets. It’s always safer to keep the other names tied strictly to the jobs, to avoid people recognising them during their travels, but the travel aliases themselves can be reused, since they’ve never been associated with a crime. Still, they take care to switch it up a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not as much as they should, which Merlin’s pesky feelings are wholly to blame for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas and Oliver,” he replies, hoping his voice doesn’t actually sound as squeaky as he thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur hums in fake contemplation. “Interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin wants to revoke everything he ever thought or felt about him. He hates Arthur Pendragon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They drive for hours on end. Around them, the desert fades into darkness. There are no street lamps here, the headlights casting beams over the yellow lines the only source of light, save for the stars. If he were so inclined, Merlin could imagine that the whole world has disappeared, leaving only the two of them in their little car, driving through the nothingness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin tries very hard not to think about it. He doesn’t want to know how much he’d like the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s past midnight when they pull over. They always try to make as many miles as possible on the first day, even though it really does take their targets ages to realise they have been scammed. By that time, Merlin and Arthur have already changed names, cars and appearances. Usually, their marks are rich enough to accept the loss rather than risk their dignity by explaining that they basically handed money to a stranger because he seemed rich and charming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, there is something of a thrill in pretending that they are followed by secret agents, intent on apprehending them and closing in. They have an unspoken agreement to sustain that tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is something else Merlin doesn’t dare to examine too closely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The motel they’ve stopped at is a bit rundown, but not deserted enough to be run by serial killers. Merlin opens the trunk to rummage through his suitcase with disguises. Despite Arthur’s complaints about the few dress shirts he’d left behind, Merlin had actually packed all they needed. When he finds what he’s looking for, he zips the suitcase close again and hauls it from the trunk, slinging their duffel bag over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur is waiting for him with a backpack on and the suitcase with their latest yieldings in his hand. They don’t speak as they slip the rings on their fingers. Arthur locks the car and pockets the key. Then he takes Merlin’s hand and guides him to the reception, the wheels of their suitcases rattling behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin is not a great actor; it’s why he needs Arthur for their plans to work. Playing Oliver, however, is never a problem for him. As the bored teenager behind reception looks at the pictures on their impeccably forged IDs, Merlin doesn’t have to fake the besotted smile overtaking his face. Arthur’s hand is warm over his, splayed together on the desk. The cold metal of Arthur’s ring is in stark contrast with Arthur’s thumb, rubbing circles into Merlin’s skin, and he fears he’ll collapse from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> surging through his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teenager hands them back their ID’s and wishes the Misters Duke a good night. Arthur’s hand leaves him for a moment to accept the documents, but then it returns to pull Merlin towards their room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence in their room is electrifying after their near-constant banter in the car. They don’t need to talk - they agreed long ago on what being Thomas and Oliver entailed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have to keep up appearances. That is the only reason why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not the only reason why, of course, at least not for Merlin. There is another reason why they are Thomas and Oliver like this, why they are Thomas and Oliver so much more often than they are Zephyr and Shane or Carlo and Harry. It’s another thing that Merlin tries so hard to avoid thinking about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Arthur’s fingers are on his chest, methodically unbuttoning his shirt, and it becomes impossible </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin presses his lips to Arthur’s hungrily, cherishing the taste he longs for every day but can only get so rarely. He runs his fingers through Arthur’s hair, which is exactly as soft as it looked this afternoon, ruffled by the wind streaming in through the open car window. Arthur shoves his hands under Merlin’s shirt and Merlin moans his name like it should always be spoken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stumble to the bed, pulling at their clothes without once detaching their mouths. They take care to be loud, so if the police ever did come asking, there’d be no doubts they were newlyweds. They are never newlyweds at a job, of course. Their whole business model depends on Arthur convincing rich people he’d be a good son-in-law, a man to be trusted with their daughters and other valuables. Merlin only gets him like this, as an alibi, as another scam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But pressed against Arthur’s sweat-slick skin, hearing the gasps and whispers that are far too soft to be heard by nosy neighbours, that are meant for his ears alone, Merlin cannot help but think that something of this must be real. It drives him wild, makes him move faster and faster inside Arthur until they both couldn’t stay quiet if they wanted to. Arthur moans loudly as he comes, his breath coming in harsh pants against Merlin’s ear. But it’s the soft, wrecked whimper of his name, uttered against the skin of his neck, that sends Merlin over the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After, when they have cleaned up and turned off the lights, they lie apart, the space between them suddenly unbridgeable again. Merlin listens to Arthur’s breathing, trying to control the mess of emotions threatening to drown him. He’s too caught up in his own worries to notice that Arthur is speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you say?” His voice is turned low to a whisper, as if they’re children at a sleepover, not wanting to get caught and be told to go to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked what you wanted to do, after all this.” Arthur is whispering too, and it stirs something in Merlin’s chest that has been stirred too much already, that should be put down to rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose we look for a new mark,” Merlin answers. Isn’t that what they always do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear the pillow crinkle as Arthur shakes his head. “Not after the Essetirs, after we’re done. When we have enough money to live freely. What do you want to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin swallows. Once upon a time, he had thought these cons would be temporary. They’d relieve two, three rich people from some of their cash, and they could both go their separate ways without ever having to fear poverty again. That had been four years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nowadays, if Merlin’s honest, it isn’t about the money anymore. They have plenty by now, more money than he could ever have dreamed of stashed away in storage space and on offshore bank accounts. Somewhere along the line, it became about something else. About the thrill. About the world disappearing outside the reach of their headlights. About the feeling of Arthur’s skin against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He imagines taking his piles of cash and moving away, buying a house somewhere in the Mediteranean and spending the rest of his life lounging on a beach. It fills him with dread and loneliness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” he admits. “What will you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed moves as Arthur turns to his side. His breath fans against Merlin’s skin. He has to close his eyes against the sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we could go back to England,” Arthur says. “Or travel around. See a bit of the world without having to wonder how we can use it to our advantage.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘We?’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Merlin wants to ask. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Still together? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he gathers himself, tries to relax the muscles that had suddenly tensed through his whole body. “As who would we go?” he whispers. “Not even Gwaine is good enough to make us pass the borders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur swallows audibly. His voice wavers as he speaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we could go as us. As Arthur and Merlin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin rolls onto his side, too. In the darkness of the room, he can only see the outline of Arthur’s shape, but he knows they cannot be more than a few inches apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arthur and Merlin dropped out of law school and slipped off the radar. What are we supposed to have done all that time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin flinches when he suddenly feels a finger, gently tracing the outline of his face. Arthur stops the movement for a moment, then resumes when Merlin doesn’t protest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you can think of something,” Arthur whispers, “you’re brilliant like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Merlin can think of right now is how badly he wants to kiss Arthur again, how badly he wishes they’d spent the last four years doing nothing but kissing and making love, softly, tenderly, for real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t be this scary to lean forward a bit, not after all they’d done just a few moments before, but it is. Merlin is terrified as he moves, barely more than a centimeter closer to Arthur. From this close, it’s impossible to miss Arthur’s wavering intake of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s finger flattens against his cheekbone as he carefully cups Merlin’s cheek. The wedding ring has warmed, its smoothness being the only thing to set it apart from the rest of Arthur’s hand. Merlin cannot stop the sigh that escapes him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” Merlin whispers, his bottom lip brushing Arthur’s as he speaks. “I’d like that very much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, when they kiss, it's not a disguise or a con or a hidden desire. It's the thrill of chase and a world of their own, stretching out to the horizon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin wraps himself around Arthur and holds on.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In my head, they just skip the whole Essetir scam and go get married in a roadway chapel instead, before jumping on a plane to anywhere and having adventures there :)</p><p>Thank you so much for reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you thought because comments are the light of my life and I love talking about these idiots with you &lt;3 Have a good night!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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